


not many flowers bloom (on this road)

by springinbeom (lovecheolmotion)



Series: nature ; introspection [1]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Choi Soobin-Centric, Gen, Hurt Soobin, Internal Monologue, Introspection, Non-Linear Narrative, Soobin-Centric, Tired Soobin, Yeonbin bestfriends, he doesn't acknowledge his emotions, idk how to tag, soobin thinks..., this is me basically projecting, which is not good - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecheolmotion/pseuds/springinbeom
Summary: He felt rather untethered these days.The tiredness seeps through his bones, it seems.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu & Choi Soobin, Choi Soobin & Choi Yeonjun, Choi Soobin & Everyone, Choi Soobin & Huening Kai, Choi Soobin & Kang Taehyun
Series: nature ; introspection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967839
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	not many flowers bloom (on this road)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [ Hurt Road ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQ4JnyrnSoI) by Day6.

Soobin's head felt heavy by the minute.

He's lying upside down on his unkempt bed, his head hanging off the edge. The blanket kicked off his legs lie by the wall, where his legs were propped up. His gaze flickers to the paper with his printed name taped by the wall in front of his study desk. The nickname "Bunny" was hastily scratched away with black ink. He didn't appreciate the gag that the game masters pulled on his name when he participated in a school quiz bee the day before, where he was the team leader of their section. He's normally easy-going and can accept jokes, but not as of late. He doesn't feel as accomplished as he thought he would when they were crowned victors, thinking that he did the bare minimum despite the title held to his name.

He felt rather untethered these days. 

The rush of academic requirements left him constantly trying to finish his current workload to move onto the next, barely having time to breathe. There was also a sports league held by his department that took place last week, adding physical exhaustion to his inner turmoil. He feels out of sorts now that he has time for himself. The itch of wanting to do something is pawing away at his thoughts, though nothing else worth doing remains. He's finished cleaning the entirety of his dorm for the whole morning, having woken up from a dreamless sleep brought about by sheer exhaustion. The tiredness seeps through his bones, it seems.

He's not in the mood for indulging in entertaining activities that he usually took part in, namely going on movie marathons or listening to music. He wants to do something but at the same time, he doesn't want to. He's confused and in a bleak mood, so he tried to take a nap. Right after his warm shower, he lied on his bed and found himself with his head lying on the edge, his body upside down. He averts his gaze from the printed paper and looks outside the window, past the screen that keeps the mosquitoes away, and sees the gray clouds. _Huh. The weather matches my mood._

The stark _85_ beside the subject Math stood out amongst the 90 and above averages in the past quarter's column of his report card. He knew this was coming, in hindsight. He had not been doing well in his quizzes and recitations, and the senior that was tutoring him occasionally was busy these days. He gave up his position in the respectable chorale of his school to focus on his studies but he's disappointed in how that turned out. He knew, of course, that he's the only one to blame. The only consolation for his heavy heart was that he was still announced as the top student of their class, but even that doesn't suffice. He looked down on his lap and returned his report card to its envelope without looking at it.

"Hey, what's your grade in Research?" Beomgyu asked, breaking Soobin out of his reverie. He blinked twice, mouth poised to answer, but no words come out. He looked away and cleared his throat. A wry smile is posed on his lips, "93. You?"

Beomgyu's mouth hang in surprise, and he gasped. "Wow. I got an 87, and I think I deserve it at least." _You do._ Soobin remembers the late nights labored over his group's thesis paper and the sudden chat notifications from Taehyun, complaining about Beomgyu's lack of participation in his share of the workload. Soobin replies with laments about his one-minute-past deadline e-mails sent to their thesis adviser, hoping that he doesn't get scolded on their next meeting (he doesn't.) He doesn't really have much to complain about his research partner Kai, as he usually minds his own business and does his part.

Beomgyu thankfully ends their conversation abruptly in lieu of chatting up their other classmates about the same query, leaving Soobin alone to put his head down on his table and pretend to be asleep. _Good thing we have a vacant period for an hour._

"Soobin-ah, you haven't been calling me these days," his mother’s voice crackled through the laggy connection, still effectively carrying through the worry coloring her voice. He doesn't look up from the open book that he'd been studying before his laptop rung out the notification that's his mom is requesting a video call. Although he's not in the mood to talk, he is still a dutiful son.

He tries hard to comprehend the words but he can't seem to focus, mind slowly going haywire as he storms up a perfect excuse that wouldn't worry his mother even further. He bit his lip and peeks from under his eyelashes towards the screen, where his mom is looking at something else beside her. _Why am I so damn nervous?_

"Uh, sorry mom. I was preparing for our finals... you know how I struggle with Math," Soobin explained, trying his best to look sheepish and not let the anxiety show through. His mother hums.

"Alright. Are you studying right now?" She finally looked at him with a questioning look, and Soobin just _wants_ to tell her. He clamped his mouth shut and nodded silently instead, bringing his head back down to stare at the words in his textbook. 

There was a brief pause. "You should sleep soon, Soobin-ah. It's almost 1 in the morning there." Her caring tone almost made him break down right then and there. He attempts to swallow the lump on his throat and tries to will back the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

He looks up at the screen again, and his mom's video feedback is clearer than before. He can see her worrying now. Soobin nods and shows her a tight-lipped smile. “I will, mom. I got to finish reading now so I can sleep early.” He poises his finger on the end call button, waiting for affirmation. He disregards the sinking feeling in his stomach.

His mother studies him some more before blinking. “Okay, love you.”

“Love you too, mom.” The call ends, the room goes silent. 

Soobin lets out a shuddery breath and wipes the tears away from his eyes.

Soobin doesn’t know what to wear.

It’s their year-end party in school and he received the invite, yes, but there’s no theme indicated. _What am I supposed to fucking wear…_

He flops face-first onto his bed with a frustrated groan, feeling a zipper digging onto his nose bridge. Some of his clothes were strewn on where he threw himself so he guesses it might be his zip-up jacket or a pair of denim jeans. He closes his eyes and yanks the clothes away then presses his face again onto the mattress. He does not want to attend the stupid party, but their section would be hosting and he’s the goddamn emcee. _So fucking great._

He typically holds back in cursing just about every single thing that proves itself as an annoyance to him but today is just _not_ his day. Perhaps, the whole week is _not_ his week. He barely finished the school works dumped onto them by the teachers mere days ago, along with emcee-ing practices— _because apparently, this is a big deal event,_ —and school publication meetings— _thank heavens I already finished my assigned articles, really saved myself from all that rushed deadlines._

He snaps his eyes open and abruptly stood up, ignoring the sudden dizziness his action entailed. Padding towards his wardrobe closet, he flings it open and starts looking for the white suit and brown slacks combo his mom bought for him last year. He threw the pair of clothes— _gently_ —onto the bed and turns around to look for a shirt to wear underneath. He eyes the array of pastel-colored shirts on the right and picked out a marshmallow crème-colored v-neck collared shirt and smiles to himself, satisfied. _At least I have decent clothes._

When he tries the outfit on, he doesn’t look half bad. _I look good in this._ He smooths out the creases on his shirt and adjusts his shoulders for the suit’s padding to nestle comfortably with a satisfied smile, suddenly remembering that the handful of friends he invited for the party all turned down his invite.

He looks at the mirror and felt his confidence crumble slowly, scanning his figure from bottom to top. He felt insecurity wash over his entire self in overwhelming waves, making him look away from his reflection and stumble backward onto his bed, knees buckling as they felt too weak to stand. _I’ll be alone later._

He tried not to think about it for the whole week after his friends turned down the invite, even when he kept hearing his classmates babble about their old friends who transferred schools were excited to come. Their ardent cheers as they gushed about their outfits and talked about missing those people swarmed in Soobin’s mind like a festering pest, unable to do much but instead let it gnaw on his thoughts as he felt his heart sink deeper with each day that passes.

He can’t say that he’s disappointed with his friends outright—they all have valid reasons to counter but it doesn’t help Soobin’s self-blaming when they seemingly didn’t care enough to show that they’re apologetic about leaving him alone. _Yes, I know that I shouldn’t feel like this. Am I too self-centered? I just miss them._

He stares off into space for a while, drowning out the thoughts. And when he looks up at the mirror again, he sees his empty eyes staring back at him. 

“Hey!” Yeonjun greets when the call connects, and Soobin lets out a huge grin. His friend’s voice brought in waves of familiarity and comfort within him. _Home._

Soobin looks at Yeonjun intently on the screen, his video feedback a little low quality, but would suffice. He seems to be in their kitchen at—Soobin taps the screen and the time on the upper center showed eleven in the evening— _this ungodly hour._

“Are you eating again?” Soobin teases, cocking an eyebrow to look at the other judgingly. It proves effective when Yeonjun pauses, grabs the glass that was beside him, and gulps it down before replying. “I thought you wouldn’t notice my chewing.”

Soobin scoffed. “I didn’t, I just checked the time and saw where you are. Basic inferring, y’know? I may be dumb but I’m not that _dumb_.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Who the hell even thinks you’re dumb? You’re literally the top _top_ of your damn class.” He proceeds on grabbing a chip—guessing from the noisy crunch of the plastic—and putting it in his mouth, chewing with his mouth open and looking at Soobin with a straight face. His face contorted with disgust all over and looked away from the screen.

“You’re disgusting. And me, I told myself that I’m dumb as _fuck._ ” Soobin giggles, looking back again to Yeonjun in the screen but halts mid-laughter as he saw the serious face the other was sporting. 

“Soobin…” Yeonjun starts, and his wary tone made Soobin’s heart beat fast. _Is this another confrontation—_ “I’m sorry for ditching your year-end party.” His tone was apologetic and Soobin can’t seem to breathe out, lump stuck in his throat. He blinks instead, not feeling the stinging in his eyes. _But it’s there._ He looks down on his lap.

“I know that you told me to forget about the ‘word vomit’ that you spammed me yesterday, but I’ve been mulling it over since then,” Yeonjun continues, and Soobin can’t look back up. _Stupid slip of my fingers._ “I didn’t know you felt that way and I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, Soobin! Look, I may not see you nor talk to you every day but I’ve been noticing that your presence has dimmed, Binnie. You don’t smile as much anymore, and when you do it doesn’t even reach your eyes. The bags under your eyes keep on getting heavier and darker whenever I see you, and I know it’s beyond just physical exhaustion. I know you’re _tired_ , Soobin. Let yourself accept that, at least.” Yeonjun finished in one breath, and Soobin felt a lone tear drip down to his fingers resting on his lap, followed by another, and another. It doesn’t stop now, and his shoulders are trembling slightly. If it wasn’t for Yeonjun knowing Soobin more than he knows himself, he wouldn’t even notice Soobin’s frame shaking like a leaf against a slight breeze, so, _so_ fragile. 

“Binnie, it’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Yeonjun coos, feeling sorry that he can’t hug the former to comfort him and just _hold him tight._ He wants to beat himself up for not being there for his friend when he needed him the most, but it’s all done now and all he could do is console the other. 

Soobin sniffles, groaning as he hastily wipes his tears and frowns at the likeliness that his nose would be red even though he hasn’t seen it yet. “Look what you did,” he jokes, pouting at Yeonjun cutely.

“Oh shut up, you big baby.” Yeonjun deadpans, and Soobin snorted out a laugh. Yeonjun followed suit, and they were both laughing hard without a care in the world. Soobin hoped that his happiness carried over his sentiments across the network to Yeonjun. 

_Thank you._

But really, it turns out, Soobin wouldn’t acknowledge it to himself unless something _bad_ happened.

He looks at the blooming bruises on his forearms and wrists, dirt dusting his palms as his classmate called out for a quick break after three continuous sets of practice. He’s _tired_ , being one of the team leaders of their class as a representative for the whole department is taking a toll on him. The sports league that the Physical Education teacher threw onto them is, Soobin concludes, the _bane_ of his fucking existence. Yes, he played some of the sports: _basketball almost killed me, volleyball gave me a facial, and softball is the only sport that I could stomach for the entirety of it._

He breathes out his frustration, patting his palms on his pants to brush away the dirt, ignoring the pain his bruises entailed. _It should be worth it. The exhaustion_ must _be worth it._

Soobin walks over to his desk and rummages in his bag for his face towel and his water bottle, frowning when he saw that it’s empty. He goes out of the classroom and heads to the nearest water dispenser, tucking his bottle under his arm and waist as he reaches to his back to pat it dry. He withdrew his hand from underneath his sweaty shirt and replaces the tucked bottle with the now-wet towel when he reaches the dispenser, opens the cap, and flips the tap on as he placed the bottle’s neck directly underneath it. 

His mind turns back to his annoying thoughts. He remembered when they were also tasked to participate in a cheerleading competition, and if Soobin wasn’t grade-conscious, he would’ve said some not nice things in retaliation. But alas, the results would be equivalent for their grades in the final examination for the subject, so who was Soobin to say no? 

Someone tapped his shoulder, making him turn to look at his classmate’s worried gaze trained on his arms. “Yes, Yeji?” Soobin flipped the tap off, water coming to a complete halt. 

“Oh no,” Yeji breathes out, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry about that, Soobin. Oh my god, I should’ve stepped on your palm instead!”

Soobin brushes it off. “Silly, it’s okay. You would’ve been thrown out of balance during the pyramid if you adjusted mid-air, and it’s kinda my fault anyway. I should’ve held your shoe more firmly.”

“But—”

“Listen, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Soobin cuts her off before she runs off to excuse both of them to the infirmary. Yeji hesitated but nodded anyway when she saw the serious look on Soobin’s face, then excuses herself to the washroom. Soobin sighed. _She must’ve felt bad. I feel bad for myself too, to be honest._

Soobin walks away from the dispenser, and made his way back to the classroom, clutching his water bottle and towel like a lifeline.

He looks away from the gray clouds that he can see through the window and sits up fast, becoming slightly dizzy from the sudden movement. He closes his eyes, willing the blood that rushed to his head slowly go back down. He blinks thrice and darts his eyes around his room in search of his phone, finding it charging on top of his bedside table. He unplugs the charger, ignores the multiple group chat notifications, and presses call on his mother’s contact information.

His heart started to thunder in his chest as the ringing tone sounded, clenching his jaw and holding his phone tightly so he wouldn’t end the call hastily. He breathes heavily through his nose, biting his lip. _This is a bad idea—_

“Hello, Soobin-ah?” His mother’s voice rang from the phone and his breath hitches. He gulps down. 

“Mom? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Soobin asked back, trying to stall his time. “It’s past midnight there.”

He hears his mother huff. “Yes, and your call woke me up. Now, tell me before I nag at you,” she says in a teasing tone, but Soobin knows that she’s serious as well. Her soothing voice alleviated some of his distress, making him smile a little. 

_Here goes nothing._

“It’s been hard for me,” Soobin starts, thanking whoever’s above that his voice didn’t waver even though his eyes are stinging. He looks down at his left arm resting on his lap, and sees the yellow-ish patches of his bruises. _It’s healing._ “I know I shouldn’t feel it, but—”

His voice cracked and his lips trembled. He paused to breathe, waiting until his exhales weren’t as shaky as before. His mom is quiet on the other line, which he’s thankful for. “I’m kind of _lonely_ , Mom.

I don’t know why, but it’s just what I feel? I think… I’ve ignored most of it because of how busy I was but now…” He trails off, hoping his mother understood what he meant. She hums in quiet affirmation, soothing his nerves. _She understands._

Soobin feels so relieved now, when his mother talks to him in a comforting tone like he’s a kid again. He feels her presence even if it’s just through the phone, he feels like she’s right _there_ to hold him. She tells him that it’s alright to feel that way and that it’s great that he acknowledged it to himself. _Saying it out loud makes it seem more real._ And she assures him that, yes, it’s valid to want attention from his friends. Just as he treats them with care, it’s okay to want to be held too. He feels every burden in his heart starts to lift, little by little. 

He doesn’t feel so alone anymore, right now.

**Author's Note:**

> I've mentioned this fic on a previous tweet as a draft that I'd probably have a hard time to finish, which ironically became the catalyst for this 2 month old draft be finished in barely 2 days. Inspiration works in weird ways.
> 
> Thank you again, for giving time to this somehow personal work of mine. This is really close to my heart, and I hope you like it.
> 
> check out my twitter: @gravityoungks


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